I used to work in the shop in Cinderella Castle in the Magic Kingdom. Probably at least once a week I'd get an exchange like this:

Tourist: How do we get up into the castle? (Note: at this point it's a rational question.)Me: Well, there's King Stefan's banquet hall on the second floor, you can make reservations with the maiden right over there.Tourist: No, we want to see the inside of the castle! (Still relatively reasonable, I think.)Me: That's pretty much all there is. The entire building is occupied by this shop, the restaurant and the mosaics in the breezeway (which are stunning, and which nobody ever looks at.)

Most tourists would take my word for it. But a few would get very insistent, like I was holding out on them. I hated to tell them, but there were a few rooms higher in the castle ... but nothing in them but dead roaches, cigarette butts and other debris.

Since then they've renovated those rooms into one luxury suite that is awarded each night by lottery, but before that we had some very angry guests, including many who were positive Walt Disney himself was on ice up there.

I used to work at Panera, back in the days when their paninis came pre-made and were cold until they got slapped on the sandwich-press (I don't think they do them this way anymore).

That's funny. I was at a Panera not too long ago and I asked if I could substitute the type of cheese on the panini. They said they could, but it would take 45 minutes because the panini mix came pre-made and it would take them that long to make one from scratch. I coped with having the original cheese. But it was thoughtful of them to offer!

Well, I hope you'll give a pass to my parents who, 40 years ago on their first trip to Europe, stopped the car outside the gates of what they considered to be the most beautiful building they'd seen so far during their trip to Ireland. Although they wanted to tour it, they did leave, without protest, when a groundskeeper explained to them that, sorry, the mental asylum was NOT open for tours....

This one is similar to Smuflo's post about her supervisor wanting test results before the test had finished running.

Mr. Sirius was a lab technician in the Air Force, and he told me about a demanding doctor who came to the lab and ordered Test X.

Mr. Sirius: "The results for Test X will be ready in 24 hours."

DD: "I want the results in an hour!"

Mr. Sirius: "According to the test protocol, the test takes 24 hours to percolate until we get a result. I'll call you and let you know the results when they're available." (Or words to that effect.)

DD: "I don't think you understand me. I want the test results in an hour."

Mr. Sirius: "The test results won't be ready for another 24 hours. I'll let you know the results when they're ready.

DD: "I want to talk to your supervisor."

Mr. Sirius summoned his supervisor, Cool Colonel, who told Demanding Doctor, "The results of Test X will be ready in 24 hours, as per the test protocol." Since Cool Colonel outranked Demanding Doctor by a considerable amount Demanding Doctor actually did a smart thing and shut his face at that point.

If I'd get one Euro every time someone marches in our yard and demands to have a tour through our house, I could afford real big signs on every corner of our property, saying: "No, that's not a 'castle' you can visit, but the house we live in! And no, the fact that you're paying taxes doesn't give you the right to go in because we don't get tax money for keeping this house up."

Just this morning I was dealing with an older couple who insisted on having a tour because "it's not fair to keep such an old house for yourself". Fact is that this house was built by my husband's great-grandfather and that he works hard for keeping it in shape.

Sycorax"And yes, we have signs saying 'private property', but obviously the idea of that is hard to get for a lot of people ..."

Sycorax, oh my goodness, thank you! I was just telling my husband about the same problems my parents have with this! I am so very sorry it's happened to you too, ugh . My parents own a small business that is run "out of their home", not the house, but on the same property. My mother is an herbalist, and so has lovely gardens planted everywhere on the property. These gardens, and our livestock, prove to be too much for customers (and even just random strangers ) and they proceed to "tour" the property, *take* plants, and let themselves into the pastures!!! I was recently watching my parents' shop when a woman and her 2 small children stopped by, and before long, I noticed one child was missing. I was walking the woman to her car (carrying her heavy merchandise) when I saw her child chasing my sheep in the pasture. Now, I love my animals, and they may be just livestock, but to me they aren't just "animals", and I'm sure there are many who understand this. I immediately jump the fence into the pasture to grab the child out because 1) No one wants to be trampled by sheep, that's a lame death, and 2) He was in the process of grabbing at the sheeps' tails, so of course, something must be done, or that kid would be going home in casts. The boy's mother looks on, doing nothing, and when I get back, asks me if I'll let her charming precious pet my geese (?!?!). I growl out "no", and explain to her the dangers of "running with sheep" as she gives me the most dim expression possible. She finally says, "fine, whatever", and leaves. I told my parents, and they were shocked, to say the least.

We've also had people take "tours" of our home, for exactly the same reason that elderly couple gave you, Sycorax. My parents have completely refinished their homestead to what it would have looked like over 200 years ago, and while we are proud of it, it is not open for tourism, it's a *home*. One evening, we had a "customer" decide he wasn't going to go into the shop, because it was closed, so he'd just wander into the house and see if anyone was home who'd open up the entire shop just for him so he could browse. I was about 15, and I was upstairs when I hear a bumping sound, and come downstairs to find this man all the way in my dining room, looking around! I was shocked, but my temper flared up right quick, and before you know it, I'm yelling at the man (I'd no idea he was a customer, I only knew he was some guy in my house, and I was home alone) to get out, that I'm calling the police, what have you. I didn't call the police, because my parents came home very quickly after I forced him out, and he actually had the nerve to complain to them about me. I'm my parents' only daughter, I was home alone, the man illegally entered my home, did he really think he was going to win the argument?

Oh Sycorax, I honestly am so happy someone else understands. Some people just don't understand that a business run from home is still a) a business and b) a home! Just astounding.

Airline Employee, working baggage claim about 1 year after fatal crash (important later). I had recieved word that one of our flights was coming in without about 20 bags due to the aicraft being bulked out. The agents in previous city sent a list of whose bags were delayed and what flight they were on.I paged every passenger when the flight arrived and gave them the option of delivery or pick up. Small town so most wanted to just pick up and get a mileage certificate. Those that wanted delivery were set up.

One guy was agitated beyond beliefe that he would have to wait 2 hours untill his dirty laundry arrived. I set his up to be delivered first and sure enough it was. However, he failed to tell me that he was in a basement apartment and you had to walk around the house to get to it. How was I supposed to figure that out? Cabbie delivered to his landlords who assumed he was asleep and would take it to him in the morning. Mean while, he was on the phone with me cussing me out and screaming what a (very bad word) idiot I was and no wonder my airline killed so many people.

At that point I had had it. I said you are out of line, how dare you compare luggage to human lives, you are not to contact us again at this number, all communications must go through our corporate office and I hung up on him. I was pale and shaking but my co-workers were awsome. My supervisor backed me up 100%.

There was the guy who wanted a birthday cake for his kid. No problem, I told him it'd be ready in about half an hour or so after I took his order. He just could not accept this. I told him that we needed to bake the cake first. He told me his kid's party was in five minutes and he needed it NOW. (Honestly, what part of "we need to bake it first" is so hard to understand? We can't just sell you a raw lump of dough. Also: if the cake was that important, why didn't you make sure you had it ahead of time?)

Then there was the guy who wanted a "Spongebob" cake and refused to believe that we didn't have the license for the character. If we had a Spongebob cake, we'd gladly sell you one, but we don't, so we can't.

Anyone else notice that a common trend when you tell someone you can't do something is that they will reply "Fine then, I'll just go somewhere else" after arguing with you over whether or not you have the thing they want.

Certainly he shouldn't have waited so long, no argument there. However, in my experience most supermarket bakeries (as opposed to mom-and-pop bakeries) do have a few slab-cakes available that can be quickly piped with icing for the birthday boy/girl's name. You sure don't get a lot of choice - in other words, an 8 year old boy could get a cake with brown icing and pink roses - but it can be done. Maybe he was assuming that your bakery would be able to do this?

I'll definitely agree with you that many folks just don't understand about copyright, and that even if someone at the bakery could copy a beautiful Sponge-Bob picture with cake-icing - you'd be guilty of copyright-infringement, and whoever owns the Sponge-Bob logo could come after you and fine you big-time. These are the same people who can't understand why a SpiderMan cake costs a lot more than the generic race-car-track cake.

#2Customer: I'd like blah, blah, a large mashed potatoes...Me: I'm sorry, we don't sell mashed potatoes here.C: Why don't you have any mashed potatoes?M: I guess they don't sell well here, so we don't have them.C: Well, what am I supposed to do now? I expected you would have mashed potatoes!M: We have fries, coleslaw, macaroni salad, and potato salad for sides.C: I wanted mashed potatoes!M: I'm sorry, we don't have them here.C: I can't believe you don't have mashed potatoes!

I never actually said this to a customer, but evilmuse often lobbied for me to respond with: "Well, I suppose I could smush up some french fries for you..."

Yarnspinner, I personally apologize. but the cognitive dissonence the Canadian KFC caused me on that cold, wet, hungover day (being from AZ, I wasn't prepared for that weather) and the long travel hours I spent that day almost made my head explode. The craving for KFC mashed potatoes had started hours before we finally found one. To be denied was just too much to bear.

(Thankfully, my lady was very nice because I was in a really tiny town that doesn't get many Americans and she sympathized with me. Actually it was the first time she had ever heard that US KFC's even had mashed potatoes) I can say I wasn't mean, but a tear did fall.

I used to work in the shop in Cinderella Castle in the Magic Kingdom. Probably at least once a week I'd get an exchange like this:

Tourist: How do we get up into the castle? (Note: at this point it's a rational question.)Me: Well, there's King Stefan's banquet hall on the second floor, you can make reservations with the maiden right over there.Tourist: No, we want to see the inside of the castle! (Still relatively reasonable, I think.)Me: That's pretty much all there is. The entire building is occupied by this shop, the restaurant and the mosaics in the breezeway (which are stunning, and which nobody ever looks at.)

Most tourists would take my word for it. But a few would get very insistent, like I was holding out on them. I hated to tell them, but there were a few rooms higher in the castle ... but nothing in them but dead roaches, cigarette butts and other debris.

Since then they've renovated those rooms into one luxury suite that is awarded each night by lottery, but before that we had some very angry guests, including many who were positive Walt Disney himself was on ice up there.

OT- But I've heard they've actually converted those dingy rooms into princess bedrooms and you can pay so you and your little princess can spend the night in the castle. It's pretty pricey though, but grandparents are willing to fork it over.

Since then they've renovated those rooms into one luxury suite that is awarded each night by lottery, but before that we had some very angry guests, including many who were positive Walt Disney himself was on ice up there.

Pffft. EVERYONE knows the legend says his corpse is preserved on Matterhorn Mountain...

Logged

Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's First Law of Equivalent Exchange.http://nightboomfer.deviantart.com/

AmberBamber

I have had the CEO of a Fortune 500 company call me and ask if there's any way they could get more hotel rooms for their meeting.

They were already taking up every single room we had. I replied, only if we build more and with three weeks notice I'm not sure the plumbing will be put in at that point.

Thankfully, the man was smart and realized his meeting planner wasn't lying to him. (But I can't blame the guy for trying, if I had had anything I would have done it for him).

But the worst I had, a couple wanted to book our rooftop for a party. That's fine, but the banquet hall has to be availabe. We couldn't rent out both in case of rain. Of course it wasn't that day. And I explained the policy and the reasoning. It was monsoon season he wanted to book it for by the way.

"But you can promise me it won't rain right".

20 Minutes later before I finally said:

"I'm sorry, but you're giving me way too much credit".

Just had to say, Laughed my butt off at this! It has me smiling so big! Loved it!

(Scene: I'm babysitting the Info Desk of Doom. A customer approaches. She's a girl in her mid-teens, possibly a sophomore or junior in high school.)

Me: What can I do for you?She: Where's the nonfiction section?

(At this point, I give an inward groan. This is a bad question to ask in a bookstore. Basically, we have one fiction section. Everything else is technically nonfiction. In a store like B&I, that's a lot of books.)

Me: Can you be more specific?She: Just . . . the nonfiction section.Me: (trying a different tack) The fiction section is over there. The rest of the store is nonfiction. What kind of nonfiction are you looking for?She: Nonfiction, um, stories? I have to do a book report.Me: (getting a headache) Okay, over there we have nonfiction science and nature stories. Over there, we have nonfiction animal stories. Nonfiction sports stories are next to the children's section, true crime is over yonder, biographies are right across the way, marginally fictional memoirs are next to them, and over here, we have inspirational, happy-making nonfiction stories. Any of that sound good to you?She: Where's just nonfiction?Me: (starts searching for something solid to hit head on)

I have my own post-9/11 story, too. On 9/13, a guy came in wanting a copy of the previous day's New York Times.

Me: I'm sorry, we don't have any.He: Well, why not?Me: Because they're shipped up airmail and all flights are grounded.He: (realizing, to his credit, that he'd asked rather a silly question) . . . oh, right.

Logged

William wondered why he always disliked people who said "no offense meant." Maybe it was because they found it easier to say "no offense meant" than actually to refrain from giving offense.

(Scene: I'm babysitting the Info Desk of Doom. A customer approaches. She's a girl in her mid-teens, possibly a sophomore or junior in high school.)

Me: What can I do for you?She: Where's the nonfiction section?

(At this point, I give an inward groan. This is a bad question to ask in a bookstore. Basically, we have one fiction section. Everything else is technically nonfiction. In a store like B&I, that's a lot of books.)

Me: Can you be more specific?She: Just . . . the nonfiction section.Me: (trying a different tack) The fiction section is over there. The rest of the store is nonfiction. What kind of nonfiction are you looking for?She: Nonfiction, um, stories? I have to do a book report.Me: (getting a headache) Okay, over there we have nonfiction science and nature stories. Over there, we have nonfiction animal stories. Nonfiction sports stories are next to the children's section, true crime is over yonder, biographies are right across the way, marginally fictional memoirs are next to them, and over here, we have inspirational, happy-making nonfiction stories. Any of that sound good to you?She: Where's just nonfiction?Me: (starts searching for something solid to hit head on)

I have my own post-9/11 story, too. On 9/13, a guy came in wanting a copy of the previous day's New York Times.

Me: I'm sorry, we don't have any.He: Well, why not?Me: Because they're shipped up airmail and all flights are grounded.He: (realizing, to his credit, that he'd asked rather a silly question) . . . oh, right.

At least he realized that he asked a silly question. So many other customers do, but then try to escalate it, to cover themselves.

Re silly questions - apparently our gracious HM Elizabeth did this about thirty years ago. She was touring a modern dairy facility, and asked a tour-guide about an interesting plastic contraption that she saw. Answer: "it is a vagina, Ma'am". HM: "well, ask a silly question!"